Merril tossed her head back and raised her arm to signal Brewster, the club’s bartender, for another round of drinks for her and Ginny. “We start a legend. That’s what we create. Anything less just wouldn’t be worth the risk. Worth living life.”
Merril sat on the stool next to her best friend, Ginny, with her back straight, one elbow on the bar and her drink in front of her. Wearing a blouse that buttoned up the front, Merril looked down and undid the top one. Stared at the reveal of her cleavage, and then undid the next two, and spread the sides open.
Ginny and Merril sat silently. Why does Ginny wear that old blouse so often? And what’s with the sports bra? She has such nice tits. She should show them off.
Merril fussed more with the buttons on her blouse, avoiding Ginny’s steady gaze. She sighed, her voice barely audible, “So, what’s our story, Ginny? Happy to drift through each day with no real purpose?”
“Seems to be. In that tone, it doesn’t sound so good,” Ginny said. “But things have changed, now that we’re playing together. Do you like it? Are you getting off?”
Merril squirmed on her bar stool, looking around, clearly hesitant about talking about their play. This is nice, but I desire something else.? I just don’t want to stop with us. It is time to break out,” Merril said.
“I like it just the way we play now,” Ginny said.
“I’m not like that.” She smoothed her blouse’s wrinkles with her hand, showing off her boobs better, “I need an expectation of something different. I want to have nice places to go each day. Wear delicate dresses. Men admiring my boobs and nice clothes. I lost my goals — unlike years past–never content with the same old same old.”
Ginny swiveled around on her bar stool, looking straight at Merril when it stopped. ” My old man gives me some money to drink and play the slots,” Ginny scowled at her friend. “I don’t get any sex from him anymore. So I come here to the bar and drink, play the slots and gossip. You said you’re not getting any either. Are you?”
“Ginny, looking around, we’re the youngest people in this club right now. No. I want to plan passionate sex.”
“Oh, yeah. What plans?” Ginny asked.
“Years, I waited tables, hit on two and three times a day for a tryst. I was a fool. Well, my daughter is grown up. Lives out of state. I’m ready for life-changing adventures. I need to make some plans.”
“Merril, what plans are you talking about?”
“House plans, no war-game plans? Plans to get sex. The sex I get is watching Pornhub –All my fantasies are so worn out; I can’t get off anymore. Ginny, we’re too young for this to be.”
“Look, it’s a man’s world. Isn’t it? What are you supposed to do?”
“Ginny, that’s not the answer. Where did all the men come from? Out of women, right? The right thing is, when did we lose control?”
“Well, it is a man’s world. We get what’s left over.”
“We are better than this. We don’t have to be nuns, dried up or old-lodge drunks. Merril pulled her hair back and put a band around the ponytail. “Let’s break out of here–“
“Where to?” Ginny quickly responded.
“We’re alive and breathing. But I don’t have any life. Honey, act alive. With life. That is what I’m saying.”
“I want some life instead of just living. Is that what you’re saying, Ginny?
“Act whatever way we want? Get it? So–where do we start? Where do we start?”
Merril tossed her head back, raised her arm, signaling Brewster, the tender, for another round of drinks. “We start a legend. That’s where we start. Less just wouldn’t be living life. And we start it here.”
THE NEXT MORNING, at Ginny’s house, Merril sat on the edge of her bed, stomach rolling and her hands cold when Ginny handed her the ringing iPhone.
I can do this. I can. “Hello, Mr. Arnold?
“Yes.”
Merril’s pulse sped. Excitement surged through her veins. “Brewster said you’re looking for a receptionist? Are you still?” A crawling sensation went down Merril’s spine as she waited.
There was no response. After a long pause, he answered. “Brewster? Oh, from the Eagles club. Alright. No. I am looking for a hostess for my model homes.”
“Okay. Good. I’m looking for some part-time work,” rolling her eyes at Ginny.
“Do you have a car, a cell phone and are you available on weekday mornings?” he asked.
Merril stood up, her wobbling knees and the unpleasant cold tingle along her spine didn’t interfere with her. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Merril looked at her friend Ginny and winked.
“What’s your name and how old are you?” Tommy said.
Merril’s stomach increased its rolling, and she sat back down to answer. “My name is Merril. Merril Donald, Fifty-one.”
“Okay fine. Meet me at my Arnold Homes model on Kirsten Circle tomorrow at 10 am and if it works out you can start then. Okay?” Tommy said.
Merril, aware of her heartbeat and breathing faster. I need to make this work. “Mr. Arnold? What should I wear?”
“You’ll be hosting three hundred thousand dollars, plus custom homes. So, dress the way you’d expect someone who was greeting you in the home. Comfortable, but business. Okay? Questions?”
“Just one. How old are you?”
“I’m forty-four. Anything else?”
“No. Thank you. See you tomorrow,” Merril said and rang off.
Ginny’s mouth opened and her hands dropped to her side. She pushed up her sweater’s sleeves a little. “Girl, you got some stones asking him his age. What’d he say?
“Forty-four.”
Merril went over the conversation blow-by-blow with Ginny. They found Kirsten Circle on Google Maps — it was a recent high-dollar subdivision on the edge of town.
Merril knew where it was now. They went to Merril’s to pick out an outfit for tomorrow.
MERRIL WAS RUMMAGING through her lingerie drawer, looking for a push-up bra. How’s this going to get me laid? He’s ten years younger than me. He’ll never go for my old tits and pussy. I’ll be meeting home shoppers, visitors and construction contractors and their workers. This could work.
Ginny dove into the sea of garments filling Merril’s closet, muttering away under her breath. “Not a chance. Aged beyond redemption. Marked with memories. Plain as day. It’s horrendous.”
“Here it is,” Merril held the red bra up, “this one lifts my boobs — they look twenty years younger.”
Swallowing frequently and moving around in Merril’s bedroom at a quick pace, Ginny held up a matching three-piece skirt, jacket, and blouse for Merril to see. “This is it — until we can get you some nicer outfits — this for tomorrow.”
A sudden burst of heat shot through her, goosebumps prickling up her arms, as a sensation long-forgotten since her days in junior high took hold of her stomach. This skirt can hitch up easily. No need to even remove it. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Ginny,” she responded. “I just bought a pair of skin-tone pantyhose in the perfect shade.”
Hands clasped between her breasts trembling, Ginny walked over to Merril’s dresser, looking at her makeup trays. “Now, chances are his wife will be there tomorrow. So, be feminine but conservative. That is the watchword on makeup. Don’t you agree?”
“As you’ll be putting your best foot forward for Arnold Homes to customers, you should be known for one quirky characteristic. Don’t you agree?”
“I guess. I never thought of it.”
“Sure. Marilyn Monroe always wore a layer of Vaseline under her makeup to give her skin a soft glow on camera. Didn’t you know that?”
“No. Where did you learn that?”
“I read about doing this in Cosmopolitan.”
“I read, dear, Cosmopolitan. Rihanna can be smelled from the next room, they say from her scent. Same with Sarah Jessica Parker, who likes to layer scents.”
“What is my brand??”
“My idea is perfume. Perfume branding. Known for always smelling delicious. Your signature will be perfume. You wear so much, they will smell you before they see you. What do you think?”
“Ginny, you’re a genius. I love it. Easy on the makeup. Heavy on the perfume.”
“That’s it.”
